GaMM BEFORE the Credits Season One
by gaylesam
Summary: We've wondered about Missing Moments MM Drabble and explored what happened After the Credits ATC but now it's time to see what happened BEFORE those credits started to roll. So while the Yahoo GaMM group starts another look at the series here we go!
1. Pilot Episode

Turning onto Gregg Road, Claymore hesitated before driving up to Gull Cottage in the gloom. Pulling to the side of the road he recalled, with a shiver running down his spine, the very first time he had entered the house.

He had left the army to care for his mother following her heart attack, and he had despaired of how they would manage. His father had never made much of his life, and there was little money remaining after he had passed when still a young man. Neither Claymore nor his mother had any real resources to call upon or other family members who were able to assist. He remembered how overjoyed they both had been when they received the notice from the county clerk that his father had been named heir to the house and property in Schooner Bay, as long as he could pay the small outstanding taxes that were due. As the only direct heir after his father, Claymore now owned it all – and even if his mother thought there had been a mistake, who were they to deny the windfall?

He sighed, remembering his mother. She had always been slight, even tiny, and following the attack, she seemed to shrink further. She died just a few weeks after they arrived in Schooner Bay, and after the townspeople had been so supportive, he had decided to settle down permanently in the tiny community. The legal paperwork had been surprisingly simple, there was just enough in the bank to make the required tax payment, and with a few signatures the various properties once belonging to a great uncle, Daniel Elias Gregg, now became his to own and control.

He quickly sold one small shop in town and some property along the coast, but left the rest to rent and hopefully build a comfortable income for him. It was on a particularly gloomy day that he finally found his way up the coast to look at the final property a lonely place called Gull Cottage. Various townspeople warned him that there were 'strange things afoot' there, but more interested in seeing its value, than fearing its potential ghostly inhabitants, he walked briskly up the walk, and old rusty key in hand, he worked the lock until the door opened with a reluctant groan.

Waving cobwebs aside, he turned his flashlight first into the kitchen and then into the parlor when he jumped as the light reflected a stern, almost frightening face. He gasped and then chortled a bit, "AW, it's just a painting!" "Are you sure?" said the rough voice directly behind him. Spinning, Claymore came face to face with what seemed to be the living version of the man in the painting. "Captain Daniel Gregg," he introduced himself, "and I'll thank you to leave my home – NOW!"

"Bu, bu, but . . ." Claymore stammered, "Great Uncle, aren't you dead?" "Are you an imbecile?" Captain Gregg roared, "I'm the only son of an only son and I'm no one's Uncle or even Great Uncle! Be gone!"

With nerves permamently frayed, Claymore dashed out, jumped down the steps and stood breathing hard in the middle of the yard. "Wait, you can't make me leave, I'm Claymore Gregg and I own this house now!" Stepping out onto the porch, and resting one ghostly hand on the lion there, the Captain gave him a thin smile, "Claymore is it?" Well then, Claymore," he sneered, stretching out the syllables, "who shall we believe, a piece of paper or ME?" Raising his fists, a torrent of rain, and booming thunder immediately sounded followed by bright flashes of lightning striking around the edges of the yard.

Scrambling to his feet, Claymore leapt over the wall and into his car. Turning fearfully back toward the house, he saw the Captain reappear on the widows walk, threatening far worse if Claymore didn't leave immediately.

Rubbing his hands across his eyes, Claymore came back to the present. It had been nearly 20 years since that first meeting, and going to Gull Cottage and facing the Captain had never gotten easier. "Boy, is he really going to hate this news!" he muttered aloud, not sure who he was more concerned for, himself or that poor widow who was already driving north with her family and housekeeper, all believing they were just moving into a quiet country cottage. Putting the car into gear, he turned onto Gregg Road, "I will be SO glad when this is over, so I can tell him the house is leased and I can get out of here," he whispered to himself as the house came into view.


	2. Haunted Honeymoon

Kissing the children good night, Carolyn patted the small dog in the basket by their doorway, and gently pulled the door closed, leaving it a bit ajar so Scruffy could get out during the night.

Opening the door to her own room, across the hallway, she began her usual nighttime ritual of puttering about, straightening papers, neatening things and finally selecting a book from the pile she kept on the desk. 'Funny,' she thought, 'I never seemed to have time to relax and read back home. . .' she paused and shook her head, "Who am I kidding," she murmured aloud, "that was never really home. . . but this," she smiled happily, "this feels like the home I always wanted for us." Looking out the window, and seeing the rain clouds approach, she pulled the balcony doors closed.

Picking up the hairbrush, she gave herself a rueful smile in the mirror, because she knew she would never say aloud the one thing that kept running through her mind, Gull Cottage was her home, not just because of the house, or the quiet setting, but because she had found someone here who made her want to stay.

In Philadelphia, there was always so much activity, obligations to meet, events she needed to attend, people who had demands upon her time and energy (whether she enjoyed it or not). Here in Gull Cottage, as unlikely as it seemed, she found the quiet time and the conversations with a man from the 1800's who made her feel more wanted, needed and alive than she had ever felt, in her marriage or before.

Smiling, she looked forward to another enjoyable evening with the Captain. Opening the closet, she reached for her usual nightgown and robe, but moving hangers aside, she tilted her head, looking at the peignoir set hanging by her wedding gown. 'After all, it is a warm night,' she justified to herself, 'and it's not like I even got a chance to wear it after that one night.' Sliding it on, she took an admiring glance in the mirror, and tried not to think too much about whether she was selecting it for herself, or for him.

She was still pondering the question, when the lights went out and she headed out in search of a candle with her lacy gown trailing behind her


	3. Treasure Hunt

She held her hand up to shield her eyes, as she continued her tour of the yard behind Gull Cottage. With the view of the road and the ocean, the front of the house was always a crowded spot, but she delighted every time to be able to disappear into the somewhat over run garden tucked to the rear of the house.

"Hiding again?" the Captain smiled gently, seeing her perched on the swing hanging from a solid limb of an ancient oak tree. "Hardly hiding," she grinned looking up at him, "But I would admit to stalling. I have to get started on an article, and right now it feels as if my typewriter is the enemy."

"I wondered," she said, swiftly changing the subject, "what ever prompted you to hang a swing here? It's not like you had children of course." The Captain was ready to respond, but noticed it wasn't so much of a question as an observation, and she quickly lapsed into silence.

Swaying back and forth, she considered again, what was blocking her from work. Her problem with writers block was easier to excuse back in Philadelphia, but now, here in this quiet setting, she had to come to terms with the simple fact that her only likely excuse was her lack of imagination, "or perhaps just a lack of sticktuitiveness?" she murmured aloud.

"Sticktuitiveness?" he asked, "I do not believe I've heard the word before, but I hardly think you can make a case for yourself that you don't follow through on things. In fact, I'd have to say you have one of the strongest work ethics I've ever seen myself." "Truly?" her eyes shined up at him, "I can't tell you how much that means, really! Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with everything, and especially now. . ." "Now?" he asked. Standing, she straightened her shirt and smiled, "Nothing serious just another something I have to figure out for the kids." Taking a few steps toward the house, she turned back to him, "And for the vote of confidence, thank you! I really appreciate it Captain."

Standing quietly in the sunshine, he paused in admiration of the way the light created a bright halo around her hair. Not trusting himself to speak at that particular moment, he merely nodded his head in thanks with what he hoped was a courtly gesture and watched her head through the back door and into the house. Wistfully, he took another peek as she rounded the corner toward the kitchen and was lost from view. Settling on the swing she had vacated, he left himself sway a bit and wonder how he was going to cope, "You couldn't have been born in my time?" he muttered, "I couldn't have been born in yours? This couldn't have occurred purely by accident, could it?"

Shaking his head, he stood and hearing the family in loud, lively discussion, he quickly dematerialized into the waiting house.


	4. The Ghost Hunter

Closing the door quietly behind him, the dark haired young man stood outside of the Schooner Bay Beacon offices. "So, even the newspaper talks about a ghost at Gull Cottage – it goes back . . ." he paused to look over his notes, flipping across the pages of his notebook, "Ah, here we go, since the early 1870's at first mention." Tapping the pencil on the page, his eyes glimmered, "At last, I have the place; I have the research, now time to meet the Captain himself. Now where did they say I'd find that Claymore Gregg, the one who'd do nearly anything for $5?" Walking across the street, toward Claymore's office, he checked his thin wallet to make sure he had enough cash on hand to grease his way into the house without too much trouble.

* * *

><p>Totally unaware of the impending trouble heading their way, the Captain invisibly stood watching Carolyn Muir began another attempt to get her story to 'behave', the phrase she used when, despite her best efforts, the narrative and especially the dialog were proving elusive. It was clear to him that she was struggling with the effort. Standing behind her, he shook his head slowly as she started another line. 'I doubt she'll be happy with that either,' he thought as slowly tapping at the keys, yellow pencil clenched in her teeth, she began again. Delighted that he was able to be invisible 'and unheard' he thought, he broke into rollicking laughter as she rolled the paper back up she paused to test the just written lines aloud, "She gasped, fearfully she sank down into the chair." "Heaven's that's one of the worst yet!" he chuckled.<p>

Moving to one side of the desk, he watched as she stood and walked to the window, as if the change in location would help her to work out the problem. He chortled again at another painfully poor phrase. He settled down into her chair and began typing his own, slightly ribald addition to her story. 'Maybe this will help reset her jib. Mind you,' he grinned to himself, 'in a perfect world there are better ways to 'reset her jib' but . . ." he stopped as she stepped over, pulled the paper out of the typewriter, and began to smile.


	5. Hero Today, Gone Tomorrow

"Why Mrs. Grover, of course I'd be honored to work on something so important to the historical society. What time is the meeting again?" Standing silently beside her, the Captain gathered from the one side of the conversation he could hear, that there were efforts underway to honor one of Schooner Bay's founding fathers. Smoothing his lapels, he smiled to himself, 'Perfect timing,' he thought, looking thoughtfully at Carolyn. 'It is indeed difficult for her to see me, know me at my best. Must say I'm delighted that she'll now see me as I was, not only as I am today.'

"Yes Mrs. Grover," she continued, "I know your home. I look forward to seeing you tonight." Hanging up the phone, she smiled at her resident ghost, "Well, you said it would be years, perhaps never, that the locals would accept me. I'd say that being invited to write the official history of a town hero is quite a beginning after only a few months."

"Indeed," he smiled down at her, "I'm delighted to be wrong, that is if I AM wrong." Tilting her head, she frowned up at him. "You see, things have not changed too much after all these years. It was common to invite newcomers to such gatherings just to size them up. Granted it is a first step, but don't expect too much, will you?"

"I only expect to do the best job I can in writing the history," Carolyn said quietly, as she returned to the parlor. Picking up a notebook from the table, she turned toward him with an amused look. "I assume you believe they intend to honor you?" "Who else?" he grinned. "I look forward to the announcement." Without another word he disappeared, "You look forward. . ." she paused. "Wait you aren't planning on coming with me, are you?" alarmed, she spun around looking for the Captain. "I wasn't planning on going anywhere," Martha responded, pausing on her way upstairs with a basket of clean laundry. "You going somewhere?" Recognizing both that the Captain was clearly not going to reappear, and even when or if he did, she probably would be unable to dissuade him from attending; she decided to hope for the best. Sighing, she put the notebook down, and went out to give Martha a hand and fill her in about the upcoming event that evening.

Silently, invisibly observing from the front hall, the Captain allowed himself a self-satisfied grin. 'And miss my moment of glory; miss her watching my moment of glory? Never in a million years! See you at the reception Mrs. Muir."


	6. Vanessa

Whistling, Carolyn tucked the ends of the kerchief around her head as she headed up to the attic. "It's going to be dirty work," she murmured, "but it'll be worth it in the end." What she did not say aloud is what she meant precisely by `worth it in the end.' In fact, while she may not have known the truth just yet, she actually held multiple ideas on the topic. Learning more about the Captain? That was nearly irresistible. Breaching his private sanctuary? Would she be welcomed or chased out as an intruder? Even more compelling, would he want her there? And if he did, what then? Would she be the first woman in a century to uncover his secrets? "Or at least his dust?" she whispered as she opened the door to the attic slowly. Blinking in the dusty sunlight, she missed his surprised expression as she entered. Watching her with a widening grin, he quietly laid aside the book he had been reading and vanished from sight.

Vanished from sight, but not from the attic, he walked invisibly toward her, following as she began a tour of the room. Curious, he circled her as she began her `cleaning'. `Cleaning my foot,' he grumbled to himself, `she's investigating, but for what?' Unaware she was being observed, Carolyn casually started at one end of the room, lightly flicking her dusting cloth in front of her as she went.

`Just as I imagined,' went her internal dialog, as she moved about picking up, dusting and replacing various treasures, `he was a man who saw the world and brought the best of it back home. But it seems so odd, the house, the furnishing, all of this and no one to share it with, surely there must have been someone?' `Hmmm,' he thought, wishing he could hear the musings in her head, `she's obviously curious, just the nature of a writer, or maybe there is something more?'

He stopped and laughed aloud, seeing her reaction to the figurehead fastened to a post. `Ah my Mrs. Muir,' he thought to himself, `the stories I could tell you about how that came into my possession – but perhaps it's a bit early for some details, but one day. . .' he stopped, rather startled when as she began to speak, but he quickly noticed he wasn't the person she was addressing. "My dear," she said to the figurehead, in a maternal, chiding tone, "I wouldn't want you to catch cold," as she gently covered the top half of the buxom carving with a relatively clean cloth. Moving on, she picked up an old oriental lamp, and began rubbing its tarnished sides.

Finally unable to resist, he appeared behind her, "Good afternoon," he offered, as if he had not been watching her all the while. Jumping a bit, she caught her breath, and to his surprise faced him with a radiant smile, "For a minute," she said a bit breathlessly, "I thought I summoned the genie of the lamp." Smiling he looked down at her, "Surely, you don't believe in that sort of thing?"

"I don't know," she paused, eyes shining, "there was a time I didn't believe in ghosts."

`And M'dear,' he thought, looking at her with warmth and affection, `there was a time I never thought I'd ever find you. But, we're better served to talk about more ordinary things, I think.' And while they chattered about belongings and lamps, he continued to look and wonder if one day, they would open the door and talk about things closer to his heart.


	7. The Real James Gatley

Standing alone on the deck of her bedroom ('Mine? His? Heaven's, is it ours?' she mused, 'and when did I start calling things by nautical names?') She stood happily watching the light twinkle and shimmer on the surf below. Raising her glance, she scanned the horizon for the signs she had learned from the Captain of incoming bad weather. 'At least weather than isn't driven by ghostly factors' she grinned ruefully to herself.

Reminding herself to quit talking to herself quite so often, she turned to dress, glad that the children would finally be able to enjoy her long promised day on the beach at last. Her overdue article was the practical reason she was skipping the beach day, and as she stopped to check in on the children, she pushed away the reoccurring question of exactly why she enjoyed spending time alone in the house. 'Well, not really alone,' she admitted with a happy smile. And turning off her inner voice, she went in to wake Jonathan and Candy with the good news.

Finally, once the beach togs were on, the toys assembled and she had jollied Martha into being an ocean-going chaperone, instead of an over tasked housekeeper, the group lumbered downstairs. With each step, she ticked off more motherly warnings. "And no sand, and don't bring home any smelly starfish!" Delighted with the holiday, the group happily scurried out the door and into the sunshine. Closing the door behind them, Carolyn stood enjoying the quiet. It was only after arriving at Gull Cottage she found a sense of true peace amongst the solitude. Back in Philadelphia, ('How could I have ever thought of that as home?' she wondered), being alone meant worrying what her wayward spouse was up to, or if she'd get yet another call to go pick him up at some odd place or another.

Here, life was far more to her taste, and gauging from the barometer, which had helped her predict the 'spirit' of the house, she saw clearly she wasn't the only one having a happy morning. "Good morning Captain", she called out to the open air, "my we're in a good mood today!"


	8. Uncle Arnold the Magnificent

Jonathan's eager question had brought a bright smile to the Captain's face. Following the legal wrangling around the Gatley Barometer and the imitation Claymore had built; Jonathan had asked the Captain if he had ever made anything like the device himself.

"Well, I can tell you exactly how this one operates," he began, "but truthfully lad, I've never built one myself. Now building or refitting a ship of any type, which IS something I have done, many times and in great detail. Why one time in the East Indies. . ." Both Captain and boy were greatly disappointed when Carolyn had refused the idea of building a full sized vessel, but with a distinct glint in her eye, she did approve their working together on a model version of one of the Captain's sailing ships.

Each afternoon she smiled, when the children came in from school, knowing that Jonathan would get his homework done well and in record time, so he could spend time with the Captain on their growing, hand drafted model. Occasionally, she allowed herself a small sigh of regret, mainly due to the realization if the Captain were working with Jonathan; he wouldn't be popping in so often to visit her in the late afternoons. She was happy to make the sacrifice for her son, who needed more male companionship of course, yet she couldn't quite let go of the feeling of personal loss.

After having checked Jonathan's homework, she nodded her approval and laughed at how very quickly he dashed out and up to the attic. He would have been surprised, she thought, at how often the Captain was appearing, asking her "just when will that blasted homework be done?" Hearing the attic door close behind her son, Carolyn allowed herself a quick moment of envy before returning to her own story and the clatter of her typewriter.


	9. Way off Broadway

From the hushed tones she was using on the phone, the Captain easily ascertained that Mrs. Muir (he had yet refused to call her by her first name, even in his increasing number of fanciful imaginings) was, as the children were wont to say, 'up to something'.

"Yes Claymore of course," she smiled into the phone, "I'll see you there." He noticed her looking about, as if trying to spot him listening to her conversation. "Not very likely" he thought. It had previously been a happy thought, one that allowed him some superior knowledge and understanding of the new comings and goings in Gull Cottage. However, over the last few weeks, he had begun to regret anything that separated him from his new family. He happily would have traded all the advantages of ghostly superior abilities for the simple chance to be a regular, normal part of their world. Shaking his head, he noticed the lady of the house picking up her purse. "Martha," she called out. "I'm going into town; can I pick up anything for you?"

"A new kitchen?" Martha said back in a disparaging tone from the depths of the laundry room. "If they don't have one, I'd settle for a working stove!" "If I  
>see one we can afford, you'll be the first to know," Carolyn laughed as she walked out the door and headed to the car.<p>

Appearing on the widows walk, he invisibly watched her slide into the car, and head toward town. The lightness in her step argued she expected it to be a happy visit, "but happy, to see Claymore? Impossible!" he murmured. "I think you need an escort Mrs. Muir," he nodded to himself. Concentrating, he let  
>himself feel where she had stopped in town, and disappeared to join her.<p>

He paused on the corner, seeing Carolyn hop out of the car and greet Claymore with a friendly wave. Suddenly she turned toward the Captain, and while she clearly could not see him, it disturbed him that she could clearly sense something, sense him. She stood looking for something or someone without  
>success, and with a confused shrug, turned and walked into the building with Claymore.<p>

Finding no reason to fight his sense of curiosity, he followed them into the old factory, and for once was grateful his sense of smell was no longer active.  
>"Heavens, I recall this place reeked to high heavens – I imagine time has done it no favors!" he muttered. As he reappeared in time to unleash all his fury in booms of thunder when Claymore spun his story of how the building would become a new Schooner Bay theatre with Mrs. Muir as his leading lady!<p>

"Leading lady, indeed not!" he said to himself. "Not for Claymore in any event!" Once he saw she understood his disapproval, he returned to Gull  
>Cottage, sure he could bring her to reason. Carolyn Muir, standing in the musty factory, on the other hand, was equally sure, no matter her feelings; she was not going to be bullied by her favorite sea captain. It promised to be a most interesting afternoon.<p> 


	10. The Monkey Puzzle Tree

He had, as had become his custom, spent a few quiet minutes watching the children settle down to sleep. While Jonathan could fall asleep under any circumstances, the Captain knew Candy would be inclined to toss and turn due to the noise of the growing storm pounding on the walls of their room.

Perching near her bed, he quietly offered some silent suggestions that guided her more easily toward her dreams, and feeling quite content with himself, he disappeared to check on the master cabin.

To his surprise, he hadn't invisibly entered the quiet, darkened room, as he expected. Carolyn Muir, much earlier than normal, was already in the midst of getting ready for bed. He smiled, knowing it was her habit these days to change in the closet, but this night, that apparently was not her intention. Standing in front of the mirror, she just stepped out of her dress and pulled a nightgown from a drawer. Stunned, he watched her change, realizing that a gentleman would indeed depart, but found himself unwilling, and perhaps unable to do so.

Nothing salacious, nothing truly scandalous – yet that glimpse of thigh, hint of rounded breast and the tousled hair surrounding her lovely face, as the nightgown drifted down, stirred him in ways he had not allowed himself to feel for nearly a century. Unmoving, he watched her humming about the room and finally pulling on a robe, she tied it, and turning off the light, headed back downstairs.

"FOOL! Dishonorable, cur!" He paced furiously across the floor, berating himself for this moment of weakness. "How could I! No honorable man would ever. . ." he paused as if panting for breath. How could he battle his personal disgust, especially when this lapse had brought him closer to something, or rather someone he so clearly desired?

In the midst of his rant, he sensed the women murmuring below, and paying closer intention, he went to hear their conversation. 'So it isn't enough she destroys my piece of mind, my honor? The two of them are plotting to destroy my tree!" he fumed. In another wave of frustration, his anger poured around the room, rattling tables, dishes and capturing Carolyn Muir's attention.

Temper mounting, he appeared back in the master cabin at her call. The rational, reasonable part of his mind sat silently as he stalked about, shouting and threatening the woman who had unwittingly set his moral compass adrift. 'If I were alive,' he wished fervently, 'there'd be no hiding, no skulking about. I'd take her in my arms and make this right.'

Yet that wasn't possible, and to his dismay and her frustration, what he said, before disappearing in even greater fury was, "Be warned Madam, you'll have me to reckon with if you touch the mast of my ship!" Luckily, she was too angry to see his flash of recognition of the obvious _double entendre _he had let slip. "Your ship or our home?" "My ship Mrs. Muir, I am Captain here!"

Unable to bear the anger and frustration, he immediately vanished and reappeared in the attic. Slapping his hand to his head, he shouted to himself, "Touch my mast? TOUCH MY MAST?" Seething, he slumped into a chair, "It's going to be a long night."


	11. Captain Gregg's Whiz Bang

The morning sun had finally moved off the horizon, and Carolyn was grateful that she could begin to pace the front deck without shielding her eyes from the bright light.

"Pathetic," she muttered aloud, as she steadily walked from end to end, giving the lions an irritated pat as she passed each one on her route. "Here I am, grown woman, mother of two children, with three, no actually four mouths to feed, in fact FIVE if I count Scruffy and I can't even find a single story in my empty head to keep the money coming in. I was supposed to find things easier, well at least less expensive here in Schooner Bay, but every month the money comes in and goes out long before the month is over."

Standing unseen, at the bottom step, the Captain stood listening and watching with greater concern. "This is insupportable!" he grumbled to himself, uncertain if his discomfort was about her financial concerns or the fear she might be unable to afford to remain here at all. "This won't do, perhaps I. . ." he was about to appear behind her, when her pacing suddenly ceased at a shout from the kitchen window.

"Mrs. Muir, you still out there?" Martha bellowed, "You better come inside, You know the trouble we've been having with the water? Guess what, there's been a change!"

Giving the lion a final slap, Carolyn took a deep sigh and yanking open the front door she marched inside to see what new piece of bad news was waiting to greet her.


	12. Madeira, My Dear?

Leaning back in his chair, amongst the shadowy memorabilia of his past, Daniel Gregg felt a peculiar mix of pride, contentment and something unsettlingly like fear. He had come to her rescue when that Gordon creature had dared to place his hands on her, and while the chance to save her was deeply satisfying, he knew he wanted more, and the more was what he was struggling to define. "This woman is going to be the death of me," he joked aloud.

Standing he began pacing the wheelhouse, slowly making the circular route of the room. When he had been onboard ship, he would pace when trying to solve one dilemma or another. This time it was more from habit, as this current issue truly had no satisfactory solution. At least not one that was evident today, despite the many hours of thoughtful consideration.

"Come on Gregg, there has to be a route, somewhere there is safe passage," he muttered aloud. In previous evenings, he had recounted every other emotional relationship he had with a woman, trying to convince himself he was mistaken about his unique connection to Carolyn Muir. Despite his best efforts, there was no mistake, the woman was unique. In fact charming, beautiful, warm, clever, witty and damnably desirable. She combined all that with a spirit of adventure and bravery plus a dedicated sense of family, making her, to his frustration the perfect woman he had always longed for in his life, "and beyond apparently," he growled, giving the ships wheel a hefty slap.

Looking down a moment, he let himself feel the energy in the master cabin. "Ah, she's finally asleep," he murmured. With a look of anticipation, he disappeared onto the balcony outside the room. "Carolyn Muir, what in the world gives you the right to sleep so sweetly?" he whispered. "If you were in my world, I'd set your heart spinning, as you have mine. If there were any justice in the world, neither one of us would sleep. . ."

With an irritated wave, he left the balcony and found himself in the dim attic again. A glimmer of an idea had finally surfaced, and after a few more turns across the floor he had refined his plan. Pulling out a piece of his best writing paper, he mended his pen, and settled down to write. "Let's see if we can't get our hearts spinning together," he mused, finishing the short note with a flourish.

Dawn was just beginning to appear through the balcony windows, when he finally decided to place the invitation in the light fixture near the cabin door. 'Wouldn't do to have her think I've been wandering the room as she dreams,' he thought carefully. Tucking the envelope where he was sure she'd find it, he allowed himself a final, appreciative glance at her. 'Look at that smile, that satisfied expression. What I would give to know what's in her dream that makes her that pleased.'

Carolyn Muir, if she had been able, would have been delighted to find a way to share this current dream, one that happily and frustratingly returned to her again and again. Sometimes set in the past, sometimes during current days, it was inevitably about a dashing, bearded Captain finding his way to her side. The storyline changed from time to time, but usually ended with them together in deeply satisfying ways. Just as the alarm sounded, she pulled herself away from an imaginary world that was getting harder and harder to ignore. She smiled, recalling the final whisps of the dream; they had stood close together on the deck of his ship, his arms around her as he was pulling her into a passionate kiss.

Turning off the alarm, she turned back, embracing the pillow as she had her phantom Captain, hoping to recapture the moment, but motherly responsibility prompted her to check the time. 'Blast, no time to go back this morning,' she sighed inwardly. Slipping on her robe she prepared to head downstairs, but was startled to see an envelope from the corner of her eye.

With a smile of hopeful anticipation, she opened it carefully and she could almost hear his voice as she read the brief invitation, "Captain Daniel Gregg requests the pleasure of Mrs. Carolyn Muir's company in the wheelhouse at four for a leisurely glass of Madeira."

Touched, happy and intrigued she stood holding the paper a moment, smiling to herself. She considered leaving the note on her dresser. 'And leave behind the first thing he's ever given me, not likely!' she thought, finally tucking it into the pocket of her robe. Closing the door behind her, she paused leaning breathlessly again it, letting the tingles of anticipation finish running through her. "See you soon Captain," she whispered giving the door a pat as she headed across the hallway to wake the children.


	13. Love is a Toothache

Slowly closing the bedroom door, Milton Rodman paused as his mother whined one more request, "Milton, the covers are not quite straight, be a good boy and help your mother, will you?" "Of course Momma," he sighed quietly and went in to tug the corner of the quilt slightly more to the left. "Is that all right Momma?" Smiling up at him with satisfaction, the elderly Mrs. Rodman gave a single nod. "I guess it'll do," she said quietly. "You're a good son Milton." "Yes Momma," he said in a flat tone, "Sleep well Momma."

Closing the door gently, he stopped to see if his duties were done for the day. It never worked to assume his mother's needs were met, it was only when her rumbling snores issued from the room that he was released for the day. Perched on the telephone table seat there in the hallway, he let himself imagine how different life might have been had his father lived. What he could not imagine was the fact that his father was actually quite well, quite alive and living with his new family in Portland. A quiet CPA who came to Schooner Bay to start a small accounting practice, he had been introduced to the wealthy Ruth Fitzwalter, only child of the town dentist. Being a man with a practical bent, he decided she would be a fine choice for a wife. Yet after two long grating years with Ruth, he knew to maintain his sanity he had to leave. Once their son Milton was born, it had become clear that if he thought his overbearing wife could not be worse, he had badly misunderstood the depths of misery she was capable of delivering.

One weekend, he had enough. Leaving all the money he could spare in their bank account for her, he let her know he was going fishing that morning with a local friend. What she never knew, was that the friend merely sailed him a few miles south where he jumped ship, grabbed a bus to Portland and began a new life. Gabriel Peavey, a third generation fisherman, was a kindly man, and he had grown up with Ruth from their early days at Schooner Bay elementary, and having watched her self-centered, heavy handed treatment for years, he had no qualms helping Ben Rodman slip away into a new life. The story was that Ben had fallen overboard and never resurfaced. 'Yup, that's kinda true,' Gabe justified to himself when he gave the story to the constable upon his return that day. "Poppa," small Ed asked looking up at his father, "it seems like the sea is kinda scary, you mind if I don't go to sea?" Ruffling his son's dark hair, he smiled down, "Nope son. Seems to me you should follow what sounds best to you." Watching Ruth leave the constables office with little Milton in tow, he shook his head. 'Poor lad, mayhaps Ben might escape and good luck to him, but that boy is caught for life, unless I miss my guess.'

Luckily unaware of all this, Milton quietly put on his coat, and slipped out the front door to meet that amiable Martha Grant. He hadn't planned to ask her out for an evening stroll, but felt it would be good for Schooner Bayites to see him with an eligible woman for once. While he normally enjoyed spending time with Claymore, he knew it would help his practice if he were seen on a date, instead of spending all his time with the more erudite men of the town. He would have to admit he didn't find women of much interest, but as Momma told him often, what was the point of marrying when he had his dear mother at home.

He was equally unaware that Captain Daniel Gregg had accompanied Martha to the dentist earlier that same day, and her ghostly companion was entirely aware of what lay in store for the housekeeper that evening. He knew the taciturn nature of Maine folk and their unpredictable ways when confronted with outsiders. So to keep an eye on 'his family', the Captain from the very beginning, usually kept watch when one or another of the family went into town.

Given what he could see by her interest as she lay back in the chair, Martha hadn't seen a single man of her own age for a long while, 'no other way to explain her lack of taste,' he thought to himself as she nodded to accept Dr. Rodman's invitation for a walk that evening. Watching the dentist carefully he shook his head, 'there's a fey one, unless I miss my guess. Not much harm can come to her, not much pleasure either I predict.' So rather than scuttle things, he watched Martha leave the office with a newly filled molar and a broad grin. 'Carolyn Muir's curiosity is going to be piqued,' he thought to himself with a satisfied smile as he disappeared to wait for the evening to unfold.

* * *

><p>Martha had been a bit more chatty than usual that night, but Carolyn's suspicions hadn't been unduly raised until she sat on her bed, getting some mending accomplished for Candy and Jonathan. True, the light was better in the parlor, but here in the privacy of the Master Cabin, the company was <strong><em>much<em>** better, and she was happy to squint a bit with the expectation that the Captain would shortly arrive to keep her company while she worked. Ever since they had begun their weekly meetings in the wheelhouse over Madeira, she and the Captain had spent an increasing amount of time together. She tried not to make too much of that fact, but she was also aware she looked forward to seeing him more and more each day, almost to the point of distraction. 'He's just a ghost,' she'd rationalize to herself, but that never kept her from thinking of him as the man she had always longed to meet, and that the sound of his voice frankly made her toes curl. It was while waiting for that welcomed, "Good evening M'dear," she was startled to hear a knock on her closed door.


	14. Mister Perfect

_Author's note: While this is indeed my BTC for Mister Perfect I need to say personally I do not approve of Carolyn's actions here. While I do __scribble, it is her actions, so blame her if you must not myself. GSC_

* * *

><p>"At last," Carolyn sighed aloud, knowing with satisfaction that the children were down for the night. Martha was in her own room putting up her hair on her nighttime curlers. Carolyn at last could finally have some much needed uninterrupted quiet time for herself.<p>

Curling up in the chair next to the fireplace, she tucked her feet beneath her and covered them with the hem of her robe. Absently she reached across to pick up her pen and legal pad from the small table beside her. She started to jot down a few notes for a story in progress, but the pad flopped loosely in her hand as her mind wandered back to the phone call from her mother earlier that day. "Blair," she murmured to herself, "I should have known." She had been particularly grateful that she had seen the Captain leaning against the seawall, entrancing Jonathan with one of his stories when the call came in from Philadelphia. "I can only imagine how he'd react when faced with a real live suitor," she grinned to herself. "I had to go through that with his Vanessa, perhaps it's time for him to see how that feels himself."

According to her mother during the long meandering call, Blair had been unwilling to accept the public story of 'we're letting Carolyn have a year to grieve in private.' Emily told her how Blair appeared earlier that day at the Williams front door with roses, chocolates and a catered lunch with vintage wine delivered at noon, and how he left with her address in Schooner Bay an hour or so later. Her mother claimed she tried to protect her daughter's wish for a new life and privacy. "I don't buy that for a minute," she continued to mutter, "she always would have preferred I said yes to Blair. It didn't work then, won't work now. But no reason," she offered with a rueful grin toward the portrait hanging over the fireplace, "that everyone needs to know that right away."

Listening carefully, she heard the squeak of the gate opening, and as she peeped out of the parlor windows she recognized the elderly telegram delivery 'boy' coming up the walk. With an almost cheerful look of expectation, she stood and waited for the inevitable doorbell. Once the telegram 'boy' mounted his bicycle and headed back to town, and Martha had trundled back to her room, it only remained for the Captain to appear for the story to begin in earnest. She smiled as he appeared in the parlor, as if on cue. "Good evening Captain," she smiled toward him as he approached.


	15. Dear Delusion

"Really M'dear," the Captain continued his running commentary toward the closed closet door with an appreciative twinkle in his eye, "a lovely woman should always dress to complement that beauty, not take away from her charms by dressing like a man."

Opening the closet door, Carolyn Muir emerged in her favorite yellow casual pants outfit, ready to do some shopping once she had dropped Dr. Jim off at the train station. "Oh my dear Captain," she smiled at the handsome man leaning back in her desk chair, "fashion changes all the time, surely you don't want me thought old fashioned or behind the times do you?"

Inwardly, he admired the way the (slacks he believed she called them) garment accented her curves, and he had to admit when she turned her back to him, the view was quite agreeable. However, he could not let her open herself up to ridicule or negative commentary if he could avoid such a thing. "Fashion perhaps, but one must draw the line at shocking the locals and," he paused with a grin, "scaring the horses." Carolyn looked over her shoulder where she stood at the mirror brushing her hair, "More Oscar Wilde, eh?" "Actually it was _about_ that reprobate," the Captain quipped. "To be specific, the quote I referenced was by an equally notorious actress Mrs. Pat Campbell who said "I really don't mind _what_ people do, so long as they don't do it in the street and frighten the horses!" "Interesting," Carolyn grinned widely, "how well you keep up on literature and commentary long after your death, I would have thought you could do the same regarding women's fashion."

Groaning in an overly dramatic fashion, he looked up at the twinkle in her eyes. Unable to restrain himself he joined her in a long happy laugh. "Yes, yes," he continued, "all very humorous, but surely I can convince you to re-think your attire?"

* * *

><p>Doctor Jim Meade stood thoughtfully in the front yard at Gull Cottage watching the children and their dog at play. Clearly, the rural setting, and open spaces here agreed with them, as he had never seen them happier or healthier. Certainly, Candy had lost that pale and haunted look that he'd noticed around the time of her father's death, but he still observed a quiet sadness in Jonathan's eyes from time to time.<p>

As much as he enjoyed being a kind of surrogate uncle, he knew that role also came with the responsibility of being the eyes and ears for their absent grandmother. Without question he knew Emily Williams would be expecting a detailed report upon his return. As he headed inside to pack, he recalled his first meeting with her so many years ago in the first years of his practice. He had just joined the prestigious medical practice of Dr. Cadwallader, the grey haired impeccably professional doctor who had the honor of caring for the most elite of Philadelphia's high society. It seemed impossible that the tiny blonde baby he had delivered all those years ago was now the young mother of two lively children of her own. In fact, he had delivered Candy himself, but as ever impatient, young Jonathan decided to arrive early during a family vacation in Newport depriving Dr. Jim of being able to claim the safe arrival of all of the Muir children in his records.

Yes, he could report that the children were doing well; it was their young mother who most concerned him. Outwardly, everything seemed fine. Carolyn had always been a bright, clever and stubborn child with a stunning imagination, but as her doctor, he was concerned that even for a writer; she was letting her fanciful side get out of hand. Perhaps he could encourage her to get some help, that way it would be official medical advice and he would not be able to share any of his insights with Emily. Yes, he thought to himself that was the only way to proceed. Having made his decision, he just needed to find the right moment to have that conversation with Carolyn in private. As he headed upstairs to the guest room to finish his packing, he stopped on the landing. Shaking his head sadly, he stood listening to Carolyn in the midst of another imaginary conversation with her phantom sea captain.

"Oh Captain really. It's not shocking in the least. If people are going to talk about me, it's not going to be about this. You seem to forget you've been dead over 100 years. It's perfectly all right for women to wear slacks into town. As a matter of fact. . ."

"All right young lady," he mused before knocking on her door, "let's see if I can give you a helping hand through another set of troubles, shall we."


	16. Dog Gone

Despite his most strenuous attempts to focus, to force himself to resist, he looked down between his legs and noticed the inevitable signs of arousal. Sighing deeply in frustration, Scruffy bent down and with a long agile tongue gave himself the only release possible, one that Martha immediately noticed. Scolding him fiercely, she opened the door and sent him outside.

'Really!' the small wirehaired terrier thought to himself, 'how can she disapprove with all this in the air? Does she expect me to not notice?' Standing on the side yard step, he remembered when they first arrived at this house there was nothing unusual in the air at first. There was of course the strange energy around the bearded one, but he had gotten used to that in time. Now, there was something in the air, something more powerful every day. At first it had made him hope that there was an interesting female dog was in the neighborhood, but it turned out to be something quite different.

Before he had become part of the Muir family, he had escaped at the end of that scary drive when his first family had tried to take him to the pound. He had slipped out of his collar and disappeared to wander the back streets of Philadelphia on his own. It had been a hard week before he was captured and returned to the pound, but during his wanderings, Scruffy learned that week that the scent of an amorous female was even better and more enjoyable than all the stinky things he loved to roll on. 'And,' he thought with an inscrutable dog smile, 'once you found her it got even better.' Now that they were living here by the seaside, he was badly confused. That something in the air was becoming more and more evident and it was getting stronger the longer they stayed.

Stalking out into the side yard, Scruffy sniffed the wind. There it was, the unmistakable scene of attraction, one that any dog, at least one with any sense at all, would know to obey. Walking around to the front of the house, he stopped and stared up at the second floor and sniffed again. Yes, there was no doubt. His blonde lady and that bearded man were the source. Clearly, they needed to get it over with, he thought. Heaven knows any dog would have had far more sense. But with his canine intuition, he noticed something here was a bit unusual, perhaps they could not for some reason arrange things so they might arrive at the essential point of release.

Lying down, head wearily on his paws, he sighed more deeply this time. The scent in the air was driving him to distraction. It had to be the bearded one. 'Yes', Scruffy thought, 'he is the one causing all the disruption. I never sensed anything like this with my lady before.' Rolling onto his side, he continued to think, enjoying the sun warming him in the quiet afternoon air. 'I do like him,' he considered, 'but perhaps he just needs someone to get him moving, maybe if I challenged him a bit?' He paused in his planning, as Claymore's car rumbled up in front of the house. 'Now this one,' Scruffy grumbled, 'I would be happy if this one could find some release too, he's far too twitchy. He makes me nervous just to see him. He seems a nice enough person, but every time I see him he makes me want to bite something, preferably him!'

Dashing toward Claymore, the small dog let his frustration funnel through him, powered by all the unresolved tension that filled the air in and around his home. Jonathan unfortunately stopped him in mid-launch. After being pulled into the laundry room, Scruffy waited patiently. He knew someone would let him out eventually and the twitchy man in the spectacles would absolutely be his target. He hoped it was soon, as he truly needed to release at least some of his pent-up energy. Once he got that out of his system, next he would have a word with the bearded one. He was sure, if properly motivated, the two of them might get things settled so the air would finally clear. Closing his eyes, Scruffy dreamt of a willing golden-eyed lady dog, one who would welcome his own advances. If the humans couldn't figure out what to do, perhaps he would be the one to lead the way, he thought, as he drifted off to an unsettled nap.


	17. A Pain in the Neck

Frustrated that the morning was so far gone by the time she finally arrived back at Gull Cottage, Carolyn Muir, arms full of packages and books kicked solidly at the front door with her knee. "MARTHA!" she called again, relieved to hear the door open at last. "Heavens," her dour housekeeper grumbled, "that's enough noise to wake the dead."

"That's the last thing we need around here," Carolyn muttered. "Thanks Martha," she said more clearly. "You know Mrs. Muir," Martha continued, "I have heard of people making a couple of trips back and forth to their car, rather than carrying everything in all at one time. You ever consider that?"

Grimacing, Carolyn merely raised an eyebrow in response, as she staggered into the kitchen, groceries and books flying across the table. With a slight look up at her employer, Martha began a silent sorting of food items. "Oh, were they out of fresh garlic?" Sighing, Carolyn looked up from her own straightening of the mess sprawled out in front of her. "Right, garlic – sorry Martha I just forgot, I'll go back now." "Now now, never mind." Martha said quietly, "I'm sure we can make spaghetti sauce without garlic, not really sure how mind you, but I'll figure it out."

Grimacing again, Carolyn merely nodded, hoisted the library books she needed for her research in her arms and struggled upstairs.

Turning to pick up the car keys, Martha slung her purse over her arm and headed out the front door. "Imagine, how she could possibly think I could do without garlic, just imagine!" she continued to mutter as she got into the car and drove into town.

Staggering into the master cabin, Carolyn dumped the armload of books onto her desk, pleased finally to be able to get back to work. It had been a frustrating morning, first having to return after Jonathan recalled he had left his spelling homework in the parlor, and then having to sign their tardy slips at school. The library did not have all the books she needed for her article on the history of Maine industry, and then, of course, she had forgotten Martha's garlic. The fact that Captain Gregg had again appeared before she left to disparage her outfit didn't help either. She couldn't imagine why someone would give her so much grief over a simple casual slack outfit in lovely yellow. He seemed to be getting a tremendous amount of pleasure teasing her these days.

As if on cue, the door slammed shut. And actually, that wasn't far from wrong. Captain Daniel Gregg had been amusing himself tinkering with the door of the master cabin, arranging it so Carolyn Muir would be forced to call for help, and he was more than delighted each time to come to her aid. He recognized the adolescent aspect of his fun, but somehow was unable to stop the game just yet.

"Martha! MARTHA!" Carolyn shouted giving the door another healthy bang. Grinning to himself from the other side of the door, the Captain finally vanished, reappearing behind the lovely widow. "Madam you are making enough noise to wake the dead," he grumbled, looking forward to the inevitable fun and games ahead.


	18. Strictly Relative

Carolyn Muir stood thoughtfully on the walkway in front of the Schooner Bay general store and post office that sunny morning. She had happily dropped off another article to a Boston publisher that would, if accepted as they assured her it would be, meet the rest of her bills for the next month, and even a bit more if they were feeling generous about their terms.

Tapping her foot, she looked at the pile of mail she had just picked up from the postmaster. She sighed, not wanting to look at them and see how quickly her newly acquired funds would be flying back out to cover their expenses. Standing and enjoying the warm air and the cloudless sky, she tucked the packet into her purse, content to live in ignorance until she got home. Walking over to the car, she opened the door, slid into her seat, and settled down with another hearty sigh.

Before starting the engine, she peered about, disappointed that her frequent companion, or rather her frequent invisible companion had chosen to not keep her company today. Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she hummed tunelessly to herself. 'It's true," she mused, 'I do miss him when he isn't around. What in the world does that mean?' Starting the car, she drove slowly out of town, back toward the cottage. 'What can it mean," she continued to ask herself, 'he's a man who died nearly a hundred years ago, but he's more alive to me than my husband ever was, why?'

Finding herself still without an answer, she pulled up in front of the house and as she walked up the steps, she pulled out the various letters from her purse as she opened the front door. Martha was there dusting in the entryway, 'probably waiting to hear the news from town' Carolyn thought. Seeing the letters in her hand, Martha, with her usual laconic phrasing just looked up and said, "Mail?" Flipping through the stack, Carolyn tried not to look around for the Captain, but couldn't resist a quick glance around the hallway. Not finding him, to her frustration, she mirrored Martha's flat tone, "Oh just some old friends writing. The gas company, the oil company . . ." She paused, pulling out a familiar envelope, one with an embossed monogram, one she knew all too well. Her expression was obvious to Martha, who was watching her closely. "That one's not a friend?" her housekeeper asked.

Trying to keep her voice even, Carolyn softly answered, "Relative." "Then I was right," Martha responded. Reading the letter in one swift glance, Carolyn continued, "Oh. My mother-in-law AND my father-in-law are arriving on Friday." Keeping her face steady, she tried to imagine what might be prompting both Ralph and Marjorie to make the trek all the way up to Maine at this time of year. "Uh oh," Martha offered, "spring cleaning comes early this year."

Still trying to put all of this into perspective, Carolyn felt a thrill run through her when, at last, the Captain appeared behind her as she started up the stairs. She fought to keep her knees steady, when at last she heard the soft tone of his voice, "Did I hear you say your late husband's parents?" Smiling she turned toward him, happy to have him there, no matter how tricky the upcoming weekend was likely to be. "Yes," she nodded toward him, wondering how the upcoming few days would go.


	19. Chowderhead

"Hmmm," she heard him pause in the midst of the game. "Is that truly the move you wish to make, M'dear?"

With her writers imagination, she gave her thoughts full rein and she explored all the ways she thought that phrase might be offered between the two of them. Yet, sitting as she was, opposite the chess board with him there in the side parlor, she sighed silently and proceeded with her move.

"Absolutely. The bishop is where he should be, no matter your distractions, my dear Captain."

Happily, she noticed his eyes narrowing, and heard the slight grumble from him, telling her that her move was just as effective as she had hoped.

He looked up at her, and the joy of engagement was clear in his oh so blue eyes. He flipped the timer and began his exploration of the board. He was concentrating on his next move (albeit not the move he would have liked to have suggested, to have made, had their circumstances been different) when the sound of the Muir car pulling up in front of the house gave them both pause.

"It appears, M'dear, that our private moment has come to an end." "At least for now Captain," she smiled coyly at him. "I assume we might resume the struggle later?" "Nothing I'd like more Mrs. Muir," he grinned disappearing as Martha's voice was heard calling out, "Mrs. Muir! Mrs. Muir! Have I got something to show you!"

Grabbing up a yellow pad and pencil, so it appeared she had been working on an article, rather than concentrating on a somewhat romantic game of chess, Carolyn walked into the family room. Taking the yellow can Martha offered in her hand, she smiled recognizing the photograph all too clearly. Without fail, her Captain appeared behind Martha and intrigued grabbed up another can from the grocery bag. Watching his expression, Carolyn smiled widely, without doubt, another step toward making Captain Daniel part of their current life was underway.


	20. It's a Gift

"And you young man," Carolyn Muir said sharply to her youngest, "the minute you finish your snack, I expect you to march upstairs and get started on your homework. Do we understand each other?"

"Yes Mom," the contrite blond headed boy mumbled clearly through a mouthful of cookie. "You know it's true Mom," Candy offered, "the teacher was right, he has been saying a lot of words he shouldn't. That dumb ol' pretend Captain of his," she paused to take a drink of milk. "Oh you're just a girl," Jonathan grumbled to her, "Real men need to act like men, how am I supposed to be a man if I don't practice?"

"Martha," Carolyn spoke up changing the topic, "send our 'man' upstairs as soon as he's done, alright?" "Aye, aye Mrs. Muir!" Martha saluted. As Carolyn headed upstairs, Martha joined the kids at the table. "So what exactly did Jonathan say this time? I can't wait to hear." Candy piped up, "he called Jimmy Morrison a 'miserable son of a sea serpent who deserved to be sent to the briny depths of dismay'." "Hmm," Martha paused thinking and nibbling on her own cookie, "not bad Jonathan, not bad at all."

Walking slowly and deliberately upstairs, Carolyn began rehearsing how to approach the Captain regarding her meeting with Jonathan's teacher that afternoon. 'I don't want him to stop being there for Jonathan,' she thought, 'just maybe if he could be a bit more age-appropriate, wonder if that would work?' Turning into the master cabin, she put down her purse and papers, waiting for some inspiration about how to begin her discussion with him. The slight noise from the hallway distracted her, and as she turned, she thought she caught a glimpse of Jonathan scooting past her door, apparently on his way to the attic.

Dropping her papers on the desk, she moved quickly across the hall and peered into the children's room. Candy looked up from her desk, "You need something Mom?" "Actually someONE" Carolyn grumbled. "I told him he shouldn't . . ." Candy's voice faded as Carolyn went in search of her wayward son.

Heading up the stairs, she paused outside the attic door. She fought her first impulse to smile and appreciate how well the two 'men' in her life were getting along. "Now is the sun lying along the horizon?" she heard the Captain ask Jonathan in a gentle voice. 'I can't blame him,' she thought, 'but time to be a mother, not a friend.' Taking a steadying breath she grabbed the door, yanked it open and burst into the room. Setting her face in 'stern mother mode,' she shouted, "Jonathan!"

"Uh oh here she comes," Jonathan sighed. Striding into the room, Carolyn looked down at her wayward child. "She's not coming she's here and you still haven't done your homework!"


	21. Buried on Page One

"Good night Captain," Carolyn smiled as he stood, and with a courtly bow faded from her sight. As usual, the two of them had spent an amiable evening together in the parlor after the others had turned in for the night. Tracing the image of the sailing ship on the piece of scrimshaw in her hand, she recalled with pleasure the long, engaging story about how the young seaman bartered for nearly two hours to settle on the one-dollar purchase price. 'No wonder inflation is so elusive for him,' she grinned to herself, 'it seems there isn't anything he ever purchased that was at the listed price in his whole lifetime.'

Gently placing the carving on its stand, Carolyn slowly circled the room, turning off lights and making sure the windows were tightly closed for the night. Looking up at the portrait, she allowed herself a regretful sigh. "If he were alive, we'd be doing this together, closing up our house for the night, walking upstairs together, going to bed toget. . ." she paused and rolled her eyes in frustration. "Wishing for it doesn't make it real, and it's harder each day to tell what truly is real. If alive isn't the boundary of real, what is?"

After checking the kitchen, she turned off the lights and made her way upstairs. Perhaps these never-ending questions in her mind were why she still had not mentioned her recent conversation with Ollie Wilkins, and her plans for tomorrow to the Captain.

After they had resolved the parasol/scrimshaw issue, she had finally gone into town to run her errands. Ollie was better than the party line operator if you wanted to know what was really happening in Schooner Bay, and she was intrigued to hear that afternoon how the eldest Findlay son, just graduated from the Columbia School of Journalism, had returned home to take over the Beacon from his father. It was clear, if Ollie's facts were right, that Mark didn't have any paid professional experience and was taking over the reins at the local paper more as a birthright rather than due to any real world qualifications.

"Seems you might be of some help there, Mrs. Muir, if you were of a mind to be," Ollie murmured as he boxed up her order. "For certain, you'll be knowing more about the going on's here in Schooner Bay than that young whelp, given how long he's been gone from home." Loading her box of groceries in the new car, she closed the door, and headed down to the wharf area, toward the Beacon's office. One of her earliest jobs had been in a society newspaper, and she had to admit she had enjoyed both the never-ending bustle and being in the midst of all the activity. Smiling to herself, she also recalled the fun of the attention she received from the largely male staff. 'I'd be good for me, my bank balance and even my emotional piece of mind,' she thought. 'If he were alive it would be an entirely different world, especially after that declaration,' she paused recalling his words to her when he presented his gift to her that afternoon. Shaking her head, she gave her foot a determined stamp. "Enough!" she said aloud.

She reached out and grabbing the handle firmly, the Beacon office flew open. Based on Ollie's description, she'd bet that dark haired young man had to be the new 'publisher'. Putting on her most winning smile, she stepped up to the desk. "Are you Mark Finley? I'm Carolyn Muir, and I think we might be able to help one another, do you have a moment?"

Ten minutes later, with a more confident step, and a clearly satisfied smile she opened the office door. Turning back toward the interior she waved goodbye, and called out, "Thanks so much. I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow. 9am!" Her pace slowed as she reached the car, 'It feels good to do something just for myself, to be part of the outside world, and yet . . .' Settling behind the wheel and turning the key, she laughed a bit at herself, "There's no guarantee he'll even offer me a job. So no use guessing what the Captain would say IF it happens, much less wondering how that might change things between the two of us. Plenty of time to figure it out later."

By the next morning, Carolyn had still not mentioned her plans to anyone. She knew arriving at the breakfast table in her best suit was going to raise questions. Pausing in the entryway, she heard Martha grumbling, "Now showing off won't get you your breakfast any sooner." 'Hope she's talking to Scruffy, and not the kids," Carolyn thought, taking a deep breath as she stepped into the kitchen.


	22. Make Me A Match

"Again? This discontented friend with the annoying voice is coming to our home again?" Rolling her eyes, Carolyn looked up at the Captain. "As I explained when Aggie called yesterday, she is having a difficult time. The man she loves is making her concerned about the real nature of their relationship. She needs a safe harbor to stay in until she feels herself again, is that really SO hard for you to understand?"

"I cannot see any reason why Gull Cottage should be a home for wayward women. Seamen perhaps, but spinisterish, shrill voiced old maids, that seems going much too far," the Captain grumbled.

"Oh Captain," Carolyn said softly, in her most beguiling voice, "Surely you might have a small bit of compassion for a woman who feels left behind by a man? Wasn't there a time or two when you took pity on the women YOU left behind?"

"I have no doubt than any females I left in my wake were nothing but thankful that I had crossed their paths at all." Raising a single eyebrow, Carolyn looked with deep skepticism, "I see, that means once you left a woman you never returned to assess the damage you might have left behind," noticing his somewhat abashed expression, she continued, "I'm right, aren't I?"

Sighing, the Captain turned to look out toward the horizon. Peering into his telescope allowed him to pretend, at least for the moment, that he wasn't fully aware of her blue eyes drilling into his back. In turn, Carolyn allowed herself a quietly amused smile. She understood watching him there, with his overly stiff posture and studied attitude of male superiority, that it was a carefully rehearsed pose. She was long aware that while conquests had been easy for him, establishing a serious, adult emotional connection with a woman had been nearly impossible during his life. 'Certainly he didn't manage it with his Vanessa,' she thought, 'and if not with her, I suspect it never happened at all.' What she didn't allow herself to dwell upon was how much she longed for, counted upon finally building that connection with him herself one day. While she was musing, the Captain finished a long count to 10, and he finally cleared his throat. Standing away from the telescope, he turned around somewhat surprised to see her unwavering gaze still fixed on him.

"Ah hem, yes, well, since you ask, it is possible that I did not avidly seek to repeat or augment the errors of my past." "Errors?" she asked. Stepping toward her, he nodded quietly, "I now see them as errors. Or perhaps more realistically moments of youthful indiscretion. It seems with age and experience you learn what matters most, and once you find it, you value it all the more. Perhaps the same is true for your friend Miss Berns, whether this Stewart is a passing connection, or something more, a bit of absence should help her determine which he may be."

"Yes," Carolyn offered with a long pause, "I know what it is to recognize a mistake of the heart, and to feel where your heart finally feels at home." Silently they watched one another, and as she blushed, he smiled down at her, hoping he understood her message. "So then," he spoke softly, "we are home at last?"

Looking back up, she sighed, eyes shining, "Yes, I believe we are Captain." She started to continue her thought, when they heard the sound of Aggie's car pulling up in front of Gull Cottage, and as he disappeared, Carolyn with a wistful sigh headed downstairs to greet her friend.


	23. Jonathan Tells It Like It Was

"So lad, you anxious about the competition today?" the Captain asked gently as the boy perched on the end of his bed tying his best shoes as he finished getting ready for the big day. "Uh, kinda," Jonathan gulped a bit. "You sure you don't want to hear me practice? I sure hope you like it."

"I have every faith in you Jonathan, and in your abilities. After all it is clear now that your mother is not the only writer in this household." Jonathan looked up, eyes shining with pride at the unexpected compliment. "Gee Captain, I just hope I can be as good as you think I am." Standing he reached over and picked up the notebook with his final version of his speech. Grabbing the doorknob to the room, he looked back at his ghostly friend, "Wish me luck, OK?" "Luck is not needed Jonathan," the Captain said with great assurance as he stood next to his young friend. "You've worked hard and applied yourself seriously to the work at hand. But since you ask, I also wish you luck."

"You didn't mind that I didn't ask for your help? I know Mom was kinda upset when I said I needed to do it on my own," the young man stood, brow furrowed in concern. "Indeed no," the Captain reassured him, "I admired your willingness to put yourself to the test, to rise or fall upon your own abilities. I'll be here waiting to hear the results this afternoon, that I promise," the Captain said seriously, crossing the spot where his heart once beat.

"Well, OK then, I guess. . ." he paused as he heard his sister calling from the landing, "JONATHAN! You coming to practice or not? It's getting late!" "Uh, gotta go," Jonathan gulped and shot out the door and clattered down the stairs.

Smiling as he watched the boy scurry downstairs, the Captain turned and looked about the children's room. "All those years when I was certain I'd never have a family of my own, the solitary years when it felt like I'd be alone forever, who could have imagined all this? It's clear everything I thought about being part of a family, having a true home was entirely wrong. It doesn't distract you from life, it IS life." Turning, he opened the door, and smiled hearing Jonathan's voice faintly from the bottom of the stairs, "Benjamin Franklin turned to John Adams . . ."


	24. The Medicine Ball

Even from the far end of the attic, or rather his 'wheelhouse' Captain Gregg could hear the frustrated tapping, pacing and finally the sound of a weary Carolyn Muir dropping into her desk chair with a loud sigh. 'There's a storm brewing below, no doubt,' he thought, but was puzzled to imagine what might be causing the young widow such distress. When he had greeted her earlier that day, her subdued "Morning," without another word was out of character, and had raised his suspicions as well as his concern.

Where he once would have merely headed invisibly to the cabin to check for himself, of late he had begun to feel using such methods were no longer fair, or even correct. The increasingly close, personal relationship between the two was certainly welcomed, he thought, smiling to himself, but it also brought the disturbing subtleties required of a deeper connection.

Previously, he could appear and disappear without qualms. They were merely a form of shipmates there in Gull Cottage and as on any ship; they would cross paths as part of the daily business onboard. However, that casual, easier and almost impersonal connection had altered long ago, and with it came greater expectations, ones without any defined rules, at least not any he could define as yet. Given the uncertain state between them, he was often at a loss to know the correct way to move forward, and if he understood anything about Carolyn Muir, the confusion was often mutual. No doubt, the feelings were stronger between them, he mused, and he assumed it was that which made communications between them more difficult, not easier.

Wondering how they'd ever cross this particular bar, he heard her rip another page out of her typewriter, and wad it up with a fury. No mistake, something was setting her on edge, and it was with relief he heard Jonathan quietly open the master cabin door. Visiting with the lad would give him an indirect way to check in on her without seeming too intrusive. Hearing her unusual harsh tone in talking to the boy confirmed his assumptions that something was indeed wrong below decks. He'd have to tread carefully this day, he thought as he disappeared down in front of the master cabin door as Jonathan exited the room in frustration, "Blast!" he grumbled passing the Captain as he headed down the hallway. "Avast lad," the Captain called quietly. "Now come about there. Your mother seems to be riding the edge of a squall this morning."


	25. Son of the Curse

Perched at her writing desk, the Captain let himself look with tenderness at the lovely blonde woman working away on a story there by the fireplace of the Master Cabin. Her curly haired mouse of a dog stretched out on the hassock in front of her, it represented the kind of heart-warming domestic scene he had always sworn he would despise. Glad that she was focused on her story, he let himself watch her with a surprisingly gentle expression as he returned to a rather frequent daydream. One where they were able to be one, to be together, not as they were today in this semi-cursed life, this near purgatory, one where they were so very close and yet so very separated by life

Standing he moved to the telescope, glancing over his shoulder at her for a second longer. Peering out to the horizon, he wondered what it would have been like, if they could have shared a world, those ordinary every day kind of moments a man and woman were meant to spend together in life. Shaking his head, he returned to scanning the waves. It was true, there was another way they might be together, but its use was restricted, quite specific and would never be possible to pursue without risk. He'd take on any risk himself to be with her, but to place her in harms way, that was not to be considered, and he realized was something he should not even be thinking. 'Dwell on something, and you'll find yourself caught up in that reality yourself,' he chided himself as he silently vanished regretfully from the room.

It surprised him that nearly instantly as he disappeared; she called out to him, "Really Captain! Is that necessary?" Reappearing in the desk chair, he paused, looking at her with contentment. Even this bit of normal life was appreciated; the give and take, the sort of thing you might hear from any couple gave him more pleasure than he would ever be willing to admit aloud. Since he wouldn't share that, what he did say with a twinkle in his eye was, "Really Madam is what necessary?"


	26. The Music Maker

It had been a long night. He was aware that once she knew that touch, that contact between himself and a living human being was possible; it would change everything between them.

He toyed with wiping the knowledge from her mind, but he could not take away something that he longed for with such passion, such fury. If fate had conspired to open the pathway, he needed to thoughtfully, carefully make sure the way was clear and as safe as he could make it for her. Obviously starting with his true feelings, his deepest emotions were the place to begin. Indeed, there were risks ahead. Crossing the line, making the connection for personal reasons was quite frowned upon by the spectral fraternity, but it had happened before, and the world continued to spin. All Daniel Gregg could hope is that once he had opened his heart, the lady would respond in kind.

He noticed Scruffy's ears perking up at his sigh, and decided to take the dog into his confidence. Saying the words aloud, words he had worked so intently to avoid saying for so long would take practice, and he knew that he could confide everything safely to the small canine who watched him so seriously from the rug near the doorway.

"So my furry friend, your lady, and if I may so fortunate to call her that, my lady as well, has finally become aware that we are not as 'separated' as I had earlier claimed." Pacing across the attic, Captain Gregg knew he had reached a moment of crisis, or was is perhaps opportunity? Smiling to himself, he recalled her shock and then hopeful smile as she saw him take Claymore's hand yesterday, but she seemed unaware that he had observed her there in the entryway to the parlor. "In truth," he continued in his soliloquy to the small, attentive dog, "I have struggled not knowing if I ever could, ever should share all of this with her. While it was not my intention, and despite the lack of intent, it may well work to our mutual benefit."

Sitting at the desk, he took up a quill, and pensively dipped it into the inkwell there. "Yes, seeing is a step forward, but it also requires I, at last, speak of what is in my heart as well." Bending over the parchment-like paper, he easily found the words to communicate what he wanted, needed Carolyn Muir to hear.

Murmuring to himself, he paused, struck out a few words and added others to the poem. Finally content, he waved Scruffy up onto the chair, knowing he would need an audience, a chance to rehearse to make the presentation flow. "In truth Scruffy," he began, "I've no clue exactly what may come of this, but I know absolutely that the time has come to speak." Clearing his throat, he took his paper in hand and stood before the small dog who watched him with unblinking eyes. "Madam I do not pretend this bit of poetry is worthy of you . . ."


End file.
